One Lifetime
by CatchMeInADream
Summary: A continuation of One Breath. This one focuses on Xander.


Author's note: Well. I needed even more closure, and this is the result. This is a sequel to One Breath. The other one focused on Anya, this one focuses on Xander. Hope you like it.  
  
*****  
  
One Lifetime  
  
Xander stood next to the bus, unable to move, unwilling to do so until Anya stepped off of it and into his arms. Faith drifted back and forth between the injured principal and the dusty rim of the crater. She looked . lost.  
One by one, the newly made Slayers limped off the bus, most of them holding bandages to wounds, a few of them supporting their more seriously injured comrades. Xander waited hopelessly for Anya.  
Among the last to disembark was Andrew. He walked toward the remains of Sunnydale, looking dazed and confused. He was staring at the ground, shoulders hunched, and he didn't see Xander's arm snap out to grab him by the shoulder. He looked up into Xander's eyes, frightened and grieving.  
"Did you see?" He had to ask.  
"I . I was scared," Andrew muttered. His mouth remained open, like he wanted to say something more, but couldn't think of a thing to say. So he added weakly, "I'm sorry."  
Xander brushed the apology away brusquely. His need to know consumed him, and he asked again, his voice tense, "Did you see what happened? Did she.?"  
Andrew seemed about to apologize again, but something stopped him. Xander thought it might be something in his eyes, his face; he knew he was being slightly frightening, but . he /had/ to know.  
"She was incredible," the boy said finally, lifting his chin a little. "She died saving my life."  
Xander flinched at that word. Died. He'd known, of course, known as soon as he'd called her name and she hadn't answered, but he needed someone to say it out loud. And now here it was and he didn't want to hear it.  
Andrew was nearly trembling. Xander forced himself to relax; he placed his hand back on the kid's shoulder, more gently this time. With a tight, forced smile, he said sadly, "That's my girl. Always doing the stupid thing."  
Andrew nodded slightly, a forced grin also gracing his face. Something passed between them then; a kind of shared comradery. Because Andrew had loved Anya too, in his own way. She hadn't treated him any different than she'd treated the others, and he'd liked that. Xander shook his head and let Andrew pass by. He sighed and joined his friends next to the crater where Sunnydale had stood not ten minutes before.  
He was half aware of himself making conversation with the others, talking about the mall and the stores that were no longer there. He didn't know what he said; he was busy picking out the place where the high school had been. It was easy to spot; his eyes slid there no matter how hard he tried to divert them.  
The woman he loved was down there. Buried under a mass amount of concrete and metal and glass. How did she die? Vampire? Bringer? Why did it matter? She was dead; knowing what had killed her wasn't going to bring her back. He shook his head. These thoughts weren't going to do him any good.  
"What are we going to do?"  
Xander glanced at Dawn. Though she'd spoken her question with optimism, eager to start fresh in a new town, his grieving mind had translated it into a tone of desperation; the kind he himself would have spoken the words with.  
What /was/ he going to do? Follow Buffy and Willow and Giles wherever they decided to go, sure. But what about his life? How was he going to move on when the woman who carried the other half of his soul lay buried in a huge mass grave that bore the skeleton of a whole town?  
He didn't even have anything to remember her by, save for the crumpled and worn wallet sized picture of the two of them he carried everywhere he went. Not a jacket or a shirt, not a letter or lock of hair, not a business card with her name embossed in gold on it, not even a bottle of that flowery perfume she loved so much. All of it was gone with the remnants of their home.  
He moved a few feet away from his friends as he felt the tears welling into his good eye. He swiped at them before anyone could notice. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and full of sorrow. He hardly even recognized it.  
"I miss you already, Ahn."  
At that moment, there was a slight breeze; it brushed against his cheek, cool and refreshing. Of its own volition, his mind conjured up an image of her standing right there in front of him. He could envision her perfectly; the way her hair curled around her cheek, the rose tint to her skin, her perfectly manicured nails as she reached out to brush his cheek. She was crying, tears slipping down her face in silent waterfalls, splashing onto her chest and rolling down into the valley between her breasts. Perhaps she cried because that's what he wanted to do, what he /would/ do when he was sure that he was alone.  
The image mouthed a brief, saddened "I love you" and he reached up, gently running a finger over the place where the breeze had played upon his skin. Then the Mirage Anya smiled a smile so sad that Xander felt his heart wrench, and was gone.  
Xander stood very still, as though moving would shatter the moment. His chest rose only very faintly, for his breathing had become shallow and slow. A quivering smile spread across his face.  
Who needed pictures? Who needed clothes or business cards or perfume? Who needed any of that when he had what counted the most? He had memories of her, plenty of them, good and bad. He could easily call up another image of her like he just had; a happy one, where she was laughing at something he'd said, or sleeping peacefully in the crook of his arm. But probably most of all, he could still feel her in his heart, where it really mattered. He felt her heart beating in time with his. Her love swam in him, invaded his bloodstream and permeated his whole body.  
She was dead, yes, but she was not truly gone. She lived on in him. She would /always/ live within him.  
"Hey."  
Xander turned. Rona stood there behind him, pressing a piece of bloody gauze to her neck. The sun was setting behind her back.  
"Hey there, Rona."  
The Slayer kind of grinned at him. She nervously kicked up a bit of dust before blurting out, "Look, I just wanted to know if you're ok, because it doesn't seem like anyone's asked that yet."  
Xander pondered that question for a long while. He cast a glance over his shoulder, his eyes automatically landing on the place where Anya was buried.  
"Yeah, Rona," he said finally. "I think I'm going to be ok." And that wasn't a lie. He /was/ going to be fine, because that's what Anya would want. So he would never love someone as much as he loved Anya, but it didn't change the fact that he /was/ still alive. And he would live out his lifetime as a tribute to the woman that he belonged to.  
The Slayer looked at him, surprised. He just grinned and clapped her on the shoulder. "Thanks for asking, though. Hey, where's Andrew? I need to thank him."  
"Andrew?" Rona's nose wrinkled. "That dork's back in the bus, trying to help Faith with Wood. What do you need to thank him for?"  
"For being someone Anya would die for."  
  
*****  
  
Author's Note: Well, that's it for this one. I've got an idea for a third and final installment to the first two. Basically, since I'm this huge mushy Xanya fan, I'm going to reunite the two in Heaven. If you'd be interested in reading it, just say so, and I'll go ahead and put it up. If not, that's ok too, because it's still getting written. 


End file.
